


Criminal Justice

by Swashbuckler



Series: Truth, Justice, and Taking Liberties [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, DC Comics Rebirth, Empathy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, Post Issue 37 of DC Flash Rebirth, Prison, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: There is no way the CCPD can get Axel Walker out of Iron Heights.Or is there?





	Criminal Justice

“Captain Singh,” David said automatically as he picked up his phone, tucking it between his ear and his shoulder as he scanned over the file on his desk.

“Captain? Are you alone?” 

“Miss Kramer? Yes, I’m alone - why are you whispering?” 

“Because I don’t want anyone to find out I’m calling you from inside the prison store cupboard.” 

He sat up, pen poised in his hand. “Kristen, what’s going on? Why couldn’t you call me from your office?” 

Kristen said nothing, listening to the heavy footfalls of the Pipeline marching past on their patrol. “Because, Captain,” she murmured once they had passed, “if you were here in the Big Bad Wolfe’s territory, you wouldn’t trust him not to bug your office either.” 

“What’ve you found?” David asked immediately, dropping his pen and shooting a glance out of his office window; his clear view over his precinct reassured him that no one was paying him any attention.

“Sir, it’s the Trickster. They’re beating him in solitary.” 

David bit down on the sharp noise that escaped him before it could become anything profane. He closed his eyes, pressing his forefinger and thumb against his eyes as he lowered the phone from his ear and took a slow, deep breath through his nose, once, twice, and a third time. David raised the phone to his ear again when he caught the distant, tinny voice of Kristen trying to gain his attention from the speaker of his mobile. 

“Sir? Sir?” 

“I’m here,” Singh said, forcing out the words with another slow exhale. “Tell me what happened.” 

“Barry and I-” Kristen stopped, grimacing as she realised she probably shouldn’t have mentioned Barry’s involvement in this, before shaking off the thought and continuing, “-we went to ask Walker about Turbine’s murder and we found him hunched over in his cell with a black eye that looks like it’s blinded him and bruises around his neck like he’s been-” 

David pushed back his chair, still listening to Kristen’s hushed report on the Trickster as he moved to the cabinet against his office wall. He dropped to one knee, pulling open the bottom drawer and scanning the tabs until he found ‘Walker’. He pulled the file out, tapping the drawer shut with his foot as he flicked it open. 

“He was talking like he actually did it - said he deserved it. But there’s no way he could have actually killed Turbine, is there? It doesn’t add up. He’s a kid, he couldn’t strangle anyone.” 

“No, I don’t think he did it,” Singh murmured, scanning over Axel’s record. “He had a violent start as a Rogue but it was sloppy and careless - and short-lived,” he stressed. “Once he was officially integrated into the Rogues, a lot of that stopped."

“That’s the Rogues’ code, isn’t it? No killing? They must’ve wanted to stop Axel from ruining that rep.” 

David made a vague noise of assent. “Axel Walker treats bombs like toys, but not in the same way the Gotham clowns do: he’s immature, he’s reckless, he’s dangerous - he’s not psychotic. The Rogues like that, they like having that wildcard - especially when it comes down to the CCPD trying to reign them in, but this business with Turbine is far too calculated to have been him. If it had been an accident - a messy one - I could believe it, but… No jumped-up juvenile delinquent did this.”

“So why is he talking like he did it?” Kristen asked in earnest. “Guilt by association?” 

“Quite possibly,” David agreed. “He’s just a kid, his conscience won’t be as hardened as the other Rogues.” David groaned, leaning back in his desk chair. “Then again, it could all be a play.”

“Sir?” 

“The Tricksters are good distractions and good liars,” David said slowly. “Flashy, full of fireworks and good at drawing attention away from the rest of the group.” 

“Axel said the Rogues are stronger than ever - are, not were - and they’re locked up in Iron Heights. He said that Turbine was planning to rat them out. So there’s your motive,” Kristen murmured. “But you think he was meant to draw attention from the rest of the Rogues? Even in prison?”

“Almost certain of it. You said it yourself when we were at the crime scene - Walker killing Hynes and just confessing was too easy,” David said wryly. “I’ll see what we can do about getting our officers to reinvestigate the Rogues-” 

“But what about Walker, sir? We can’t just leave him in there, sir. When we found him he said how Wolfe would ‘eat him alive’ if anyone found out what they’d done to him,” Kristen said worriedly. “If Axel gets punished for us visiting him-” 

“It won’t be your fault,” David said so sharply he heard a clatter at the end of the line as Kristen jumped. “Do you hear me? This is all Wolfe, not you. I will not have you taking the blame he deserves.”

“Yes, sir.” Kristen said, swallowing the lump in her throat and taking a calming breath. “Is there anything the CCPD can do to get him out of there? No one should be getting hurt by the cops or the feds, especially not a kid.” 

Kristen waited for a reply, tapping her fingers against her elbow and chewing her lip until there was a quiet noise from the other end of the line - a single, weary sigh.

“I have spent the last week talking to the bureau, the commissioner, the state attorney general- I have tried for the last _three years_ to have inmates transferred from the penitentiary to another prison, especially non-Metahuman offenders, as Wolfe can’t argue that his facility is more ‘secure’ on that front. Every single one has been blocked. Every appeal, every inquest - all week I have tried to have Walker transferred out of Iron Heights on the basis of him being a juvenile and the fact we hadn’t had the chance to process him - hadn’t had the chance to do our jobs - before he was locked in isolation. That was denied too. We weren’t allowed to do our jobs because Wolfe is the ultimate governing authority over Iron Heights. He’s made himself and his hellhole untouchable and impenetrable. He doesn’t want the CCPD getting near Walker? We won’t.” 

Kristen's brow furrowed. She'd never heard Captain Singh sound so defeated before. “Is it wrong to hope he breaks out somehow?” she laughed weakly. On the other end of the line, Captain Singh snorted.

“On this one occasion, it might be the lesser of two evils.” Kristen grinned at her Captain’s words, then groaned, rubbing her hand over her eyes as she straightened up. 

“Urgh, this is sick. He’s just a kid.”

“I know, Kristen. But there’s no way we can get him out. I have tried. And I still will. We just-” David shook his head, staring into space as he tapped his palm against his desk. "If we can get any evidence that they’re abusing a minor in there then they might listen to us. It’s our best chance.” 

“How do we do that? I’m not going to be able to get back to his cell, not after earlier, but he’s a kid and I- I mean, I could try and visit the holding lockup under the guise of the investigation and try and find his arm, but I doubt-” 

_“What did you just say?”_

David Singh is a man who can really shout; as Captain of a busy police precinct, it definitely comes in handy. She’s seen hardened criminals balk when Singh has unexpectedly barked urgent orders around the precinct. She remembers when one of the younger detectives caught a moment like that on their phone and it became the precinct’s screensaver for a week, until Captain Singh asked them, very politely, to change it. Singh shouting is one thing. What is worse, by far, is when his voice becomes very carefully measured and unnaturally calm. Better to be the target of Leonard Snart’s Cold Gun than be the reason Singh’s voice turns to ice.

Kristen swallowed. “They took his prosthesis. Sir. They took his arm - the one Grodd ripped off about a year or two ago. He’s-”

“They took his arm,” David repeated slowly. “They are torturing a minor. And they have taken his arm.”

“Walker said-” Kristen said, after taking a moment to remind herself that it wasn’t her that Captain Singh was angry at, “-he said Wolfe took it. Told the guards to remove it when they beat him.” 

Kristen checked her phone after a minute of silence - the call was still going. She put her phone to her ear again, and checked her watch. She couldn’t hide in the cupboard for much longer - she’d get found, or they’d at least notice that she’d left her office for an extended period and question her absence. She’d have hid in the toilets if she didn’t think she’d be overheard. At least that could be her excuse. 

“Thank you, Kristen,” David’s voice said over the line, tone not as biting as it had been, but his voice was still deliberately calm. “I have a meeting in ten minutes, I will have to get back to you.”

“Is there anything you want me to do, sir?” Kristen asked. “I can investigate holding-” 

“No,” Singh said, then more slowly, “I appreciate what you’re offering to do, Kristen, but remember what we talked about before. I need you to stick to Wolfe, I need him to trust you.” 

Kristen nodded. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.” 

“Good. And Kristen?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“You did the right thing calling me about this.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll let you know if anything develops, Ms Kramer.”

“Thank you, Captain. Best of luck.” 

David dropped his phone onto his desk and watched as the screen of his phone flashed as Kristen ended the call. He groaned, pushing his chair back from his desk and spinning it round so his back was to the door as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and bit his tongue to keep himself from shouting. 

Wolfe was doing it again. Of course the Warden was taking the opportunity to punish whatever Rogue he could get his hands on, but a kid? That was a new low, even for him. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t. He knew Wolfe’s history, kept carefully covered up from the feds, the CCPD and the press, all through a tight regime within the penitentiary and the ability to dismiss witnesses - victims - under a label of “unreliably biased”. But scars don’t lie. David breathed out through his mouth slowly, leaning back in his chair as he lowered his hands from his eyes, knitting his fingers together over his chest. 

Nothing in the past had ever worked in getting Iron Heights to transfer any of its inmates in the past. Every inquest and appeal had been denied, unread and unconsidered for even low-level inmates. He may as well have ripped his appeals for a Rogue to be released. 

What were the Rogues even doing? How were they ‘stronger than ever’ if they were locked up in Iron Heights? David shook his head, and opened his eyes. Whatever the Rogues were up to could wait. They were in cells, they weren’t going anywhere. The problem was the one locked in the basement who was doing the same. 

“How can I get you out of isolation?” David murmured to himself, twisting his chair back round and addressing the photo of Axel Walker clipped to his file. 

Something the Warden himself had said at the crime scene came back to him. 

_“You were locked up in a cell - my cell. No one gets past my security.”_

Maybe you don’t have to get him out - someone else can. 

David snatched his hand away from his phone when he realised he was reaching for it like he’d been scalded. No. He couldn’t do that. It would be criminal. Two wrongs didn’t make a right and he wasn’t about to jeopardise everything he stood for by encouraging vigilantism. 

And if the kid dies? 

David’s fervour faltered as the thought hit him. He’s just a kid. You know what Wolfe has done to old inmates who have been charged with murder - wrongfully charged with murder, at that. Do you want him to do all that again? Of course he didn’t, but… David picked up his phone, turning it over and over in his hand. I can’t just tell him to be a criminal again. 

Then ask him.

I can’t send him back into that hellhole. 

All you can do is ask. 

But if I ask him- 

-you know what the answer will be. That’s what scares you. 

And it’s not because it’s illegal. 

David closed his eyes and tapped the top of his phone against his forehead as Kristen’s little laugh echoed in his mind, along with his own words.

_“Is it wrong to hope he breaks out somehow?”_

_“On this one occasion, it might be the lesser of two evils.”_

David unlocked his phone, standing and staring out at his precinct as his thumb hovered over the dial pad. All he'd have to do was mention Axel's prosthetic and there would be no question about it. David took a calming breath through his nose.

Why do you hate Gregory Wolfe? he asked himself silently, without needing to ponder the answer. Obstruction of justice, gross misuse and abuse of power, including the lasting effects of which you’ve seen first-hand. 

**_“No one gets past my security.”_ **

_Yeah, well,_ David thought to himself as he pressed ‘one’ on his speed dial and raised his phone to his ear, _not quite no one._

The phone rang once, twice-

 

Axel bolted upright as the klaxon screamed through the prison.

“Oh, now we’re talking,” he grinned, wincing at the pain in his ribs as he scrambled to his feet, steadying himself against the wall of his cell with his left arm. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, bouncing on his toes.

Axel cheered when the shutter in his cell door was slid open. “Yeah, c’mon, get me outta- yo, who the frick are you?”

_“Stand back.”_

Axel flattened himself against the wall of his cell as the door was ripped off its hinges. “Wha-” he spluttered, lowering his arm from his face to gawk at the man stood in the entrance to his cell dressed all in black bike leathers “-what the hell was that?!”

 _“One of yours.”_ Axel could just make out his assailant’s voice over the sound of the siren, distorted and crackling behind the black bike helmet they were wearing. The man reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out something silver. _“Just like this is.”_

“Gimmegimmegimme-!” Axel snatched his prosthesis from the man’s gloved hands, yanking up the sleeve of his baggy purple coat and slotting it into its socket with a gleeful noise as it clicked and whirred and he got to flex the fingers of his right hand again.

“Oooh, that feels so much better,” he grinned, stretching both his arms up. “Hey, what’re you doing? Shouldn’t we be, ya know, running?” Axel jerked his thumb at the door as the man in black pulled something out of his bag that rattled as it was shook. 

_“Oh,”_ the static voice clarified as the cap was pulled off the spray can. _“Don’t worry, we’ve got time for this one little thing.”_

Axel grinned as he watched his assailant scrawl yellow paint across the walls of his cell. “Nice.” 

 

“So who are you?” Axel shouted excitedly as they pelted down the corridor. “You’re not one of the Rogues ‘cause you wouldn’t care about showing your face if you were!” His rescuer said nothing, just kept running. “You have a way out of here, right?” Axel prompted over the noise of the alarm.

_“Yes.”_

“Oh, so you can hear me.”

 _“Loud and clear,”_ drawled the electronic voice from beneath the helmet. Axel grinned.

“C’mon,” he panted as they raced round a corner and took the stairs three at a time. “Who are you? Are you someone who works here? You’re not that stupid cop who punched me are you? Someone got a guilty conscience?” Axel needled, to no reply. “Okay, so not a cop. I’m a Rogue - you another criminal? Did you breakout too? Nah, you would still be in costume if you had. Did Copperhead send you to get me? Favour for a favour? Wait, _are_ you Copperhead? Nah, she’s a chick, ain’t she. Bet you’re not that hot, that’s why you’re hiding your face,” Axel sneered, but his expression soured when his assailant still didn’t take the bait. “C’mooon!” he whined. “All I want is a hint!”

 _“I didn’t break you out to play twenty questions,”_ the robotic voice responded at last, and Axel jumped at the chance.

“Then why did you break me ou- _Sh-!_ ” 

Axel and the man in black skidded to a halt as two of the Pipeline rounded the corner, scrambling to run back in the direction they had come as heavy footfalls stormed after them. The Trickster yelped as he was grabbed, flailing before he realised it was his rescuer shoving him down a side corridor. 

_“Gogogo!”_

Axel didn’t need telling twice. Axel threw himself down the corridor ahead of the man in black, stumbling forward as something exploded behind them.

“What was that?! Are they firing at us?!”

 _“No,”_ the voice said, and Axel couldn’t help but think the man was enjoying keeping him in the dark. _“It was another one of yours.”_

“What do you mean when you keep saying- Hey!” Axel squawked, gawking as his head snapped round in time to see his assailant pulling something blue and spherical out of the bag over his shoulder. “That’s- Where did you- Those are my T-bombs!” He wasn’t sure if he was mad or impressed. “I thought all those got destroyed by the CCPD ages ago when they raided our safehou-” He reached for the bomb the man was holding. “C’mon, man, no fair, you can’t just wave my toys around in front of me and not let me- yessssss,” Axel hissed in delight as it was thrust into his hands. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you,” he groaned. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he scraped the fingers of his gloves up the wick of the bomb and hurled it through the air.

_“YEET!”_

“Get down!” 

Axel cheered as the bomb exploded, sending the armoured guards flying backwards. “You think you pack a punch? You know nothing, asswipe!”

_“Axel!”_

Axel whipped round; his assailant was at the end of the corridor. _“Come on!”_

“How’re we getting out of here?” Axel asked. “Yo, you better have a way of getting out of here,” Axel groaned as they rounded one last corner and stood facing a dead end, “‘cause I’m not dying just because you suck at improvising.” 

_“I got you this far, didn’t I?”_ the man said, unzipping his jacket pocket and producing a ring of keys as he rushed down the corridor. He stopped at a panel in the wall, Axel hot on his heels as he jammed a key with a papery label wrapped around it into the wall and twisted. 

Axel gagged as the man pulled the panel open, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Garbage chute, are you kidding me?!” 

_“I thought you might like the cliche.”_

“Easy for you to say, you’re wearing a helmet, you can’t smell it!” Yeah, this guy was definitely having fun, Axel thought to himself bitterly. “Did I do something to really tick you off or something?” 

_“Would I be rescuing you if you had?”_ Okay, maybe he wasn’t having fun - behind the electronic scraping of whatever was distorting the man’s voice, Axel could now hear urgency; he could hear fear. _“Now go!”_ he ordered, pushing him towards the chute as he darted forwards, pulling a final T-bomb out of the bag and hurling it at the end of the corridor as one of the Pipeline emerged, armour dented and sparking. 

“Sir, they’re here!” 

“Fire at will.” _Wolfe._

Axel threw himself down the chute, clutching his hand over his mouth and nose as he shot out, landing on his back with a groan.

“How the hell do I always end up in a friggin’ dumpster?” Axel muttered bitterly to the sky above him, before he snorted, giggling as he stretched in the sunlight. “Huh? Wha’s- ah, sh-!” Axel threw himself out of the way just in time, scrambling awkwardly over pillowy trash bags as his assailant dropped out of the garbage chute with a muffled shout. 

“You good?” Axel asked loudly, wincing as he noticed just how badly his ears were ringing. The helmet nodded once.

_“Let’s go.”_

Axel vaulted over the side of the dumpster, landing with practiced ease. He watched as the man awkwardly clambered up until he was perched on the corner of the container before dropping down. “What are you, a janitor or something? You seem to know the prison pretty well,” Axel said, wiggling his finger in his ear, screwing his nose up as he tried to dislodge the tinny whining. The man ignored his question, striding determinedly towards a van parked near the fence. “We leaving in that? It’s discreet, I’ll give you tha-” The man had pulled a set of car keys out of his jacket pocket and clicked them; the van did not beep, but something behind it did. 

“Oooh, now that’s more like it.” Axel definitely heard a snigger from beneath the bike helmet as the Trickster bounced towards the sleek sports car. “Is that a Bugatti? Ohh, it is. How- who- where- Okay you are so not a janitor,” Axel grinned, stroking a gloved hand along the glossy paintwork before throwing himself into the passenger seat with a groan as he got comfortable. “You know what would be a great parting gift? This car. If you could not be super attached to it that’d be great.”

The man laughed again as he slid into the driver’s seat. _“You don’t need to shout. I can hear you.”_

“Are you sure?” Axel shouted louder. “I think the bike helmet is blocking me out!” The helmet turned minutely in Axel’s direction, and he got the feeling that somewhere beneath the black visor there was a disapproving look. Axel rolled his eyes, dropping back down into his seat as the engine revved. “Ears are ringing from the alarm,” he shrugged, raising his hand to prod at his left ear again, only to have it slapped away.

_“Don’t put your fingers in your ears, you’ll make it worse.”_

“A’ight,” Axel said, eyes wide with surprise. He settled in his seat, a wide grin forming on his face as the man spun the car out of the yard and it flew down the bridge, Iron Heights shrinking rapidly in the rear-view mirror.

“Didn’t think a Bugatti got this fast!” Axel all but cheered, cackling as he craned his neck over his seat to watch Iron Heights disappear. 

_“In a city full of Speedsters, you need to be able to keep up.”_

“I’d prefer outrunning them, but sure,” Axel sniggered, closing his eyes and letting out a pained noise.

_“Are you alright?”_

“Will be just-” He shifted in his seat as the city whizzed past the windows “-getting beaten up and then running for my life - pain’s starting to catch up with me.” 

Axel opened his eyes when he heard the crackle of static and snippets of music. The man’s gloved hand was fiddling with the dials of the radio. “What you doing? Looking for a police radio channel or something?”

 _“No,”_ the man said, finally choosing a station. _“This will help with the ringing.”_

“Ah, right,” Axel nodded. “Thanks, yo. And thanks for breaking me out,” Axel laughed in surprise, suddenly aware that his body was trembling. “Really mean it.”

_“Don’t thank me yet.”_

“Right, right,” Axel said, hugging his arms around himself to try and control his shivering as something smooth and elegant came on the radio. “We’re not away scot-free yet, I get it. The Rogues never break out the beer until Flash’s done his rounds. Where are we going? Are you finally gonna tell m.. Tell me who you are?” Axel yawned. He wiggled his toes inside his shoes, stretching his legs with a groan. He looked at the car’s radio - the station wasn’t anything he recognised, but the music felt like ribbon sliding through his ears, pushing out the insectoid whining. It was nice. Axel blinked, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye. Slowly, the anxious, adrenaline fueled tension began to slip from his neck and shoulders as he sank into the sculpted leather of the seat. “You know-” another yawn. Everything was starting to get warm and hazy. “You know...if...if you wanted to make my day even better you could...you should...seriously think ‘bout giv’n me the...car…”

 

Axel blinked, sniffing and stretching. A pained noise slipped through gritted teeth as his arms and ribs and legs and head burned. Urgh. He needed painkillers, asap. Maybe the guy had some. Maybe now he could find out who the hell his rescuer was. He raised a heavy arm, draping it over his eyes. He could hear voices, a phone ringing somewhere, a laugh.

_The hell’s he taken me?_

Axel cracked his eyes open. There were splodges of light, and dark blue. Definitely inside, probably late - how long did I sleep for? It’s warm, and people are happy - maybe a bar? He better buy me a freaking drink if he’s taken me to a bar, Axel thought to himself, rubbing his eyes before opening them properly.

“Wha- NO.”

Axel threw himself off of the little cot bed, slamming into the bars of the cell so suddenly a young woman in a police uniform jumped, nearly spilling her coffee. “Nonono!” Axel smacked his hands against the bars, shouting in frustration.

“Sir!” the startled woman called, cradling her paper cup, “he’s awake!” Axel stared out at the bustling precinct in horror. _What the f-_

“Ah,” Captain Singh said as he shut the door of his office behind him. “Good evening, Trickster. We were wondering when you’d come round from your busy day.”

“How the hell did I get here?” Axel snarled through the bars of the holding cell. David Singh ignored him, gesturing over a couple of officers. 

“Can you take him to an interrogation room, please?”

David watched as the dumbfounded Trickster was cuffed and led out of holding and down the short corridor to the interrogation room. “And get him something to eat,” he called after the guards as an afterthought. 

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s nice of you, sir,” said the young woman who Axel had startled, blowing on her coffee. 

“He’s only a kid,” David said somberly. “Detective Sanchez, could you please round up the evidence and surveillance reports regarding his escape for me? I want to talk to him myself.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, gulping down her coffee and dashing for the door, almost crashing into the man who barged in with a face like thunder.

“Where is he?” Wolfe roared, and the precinct froze, twenty faces staring at the Warden of Iron Heights, flanked by two guards. 

“Where is who, Warden?” David asked calmly, turning minutely so his back was to Wolfe.

“The Trickster. Captain Singh, you have one of my inmates,” Wolfe growled, pointing at Singh. David frowned. 

“No we don’t.”

“Captain Singh, I do not expect you of all people to play games with me. I know that your officers apprehended the Trickster after his escape earlier today, so I do not expect you to-”

“Oh, we have the Trickster,” David said calmly, turning back to face Wolfe, hands folded neatly in front of him. “He’s just not one of your inmates, is he? That label became defunct yesterday, after he escaped.”

The officers around the precinct shared stunned glances. 

And one particular young detective surreptitiously slipped her phone out of her pocket and clicked record. 

David straightened up, giving Wolfe a cold, hard stare. “Seems your state of the art security wasn’t up to the standard you had hoped, Warden. I warned you from the beginning that this matter with the Rogues was all too clean, all too easy. Looks like the Rogues had a plan to have Axel in isolation from the beginning,” he said sternly.

“None of the Rogues left their cells during the time the clown was broken out of isolation,” snapped Wolfe. “We have CCTV monitoring them non-stop, same for the isolation wing. You can see for yourself that he had outside help.” 

“A masked assailant?” David scowled, taking the surveillance stills Wolfe pushed into his hands. He shuffled the photographs - Axel Walker was following a figure dressed all in black, their face hidden behind a black motorcycle helmet. He flicked down to the final still and bit his tongue. It was a photograph of Walker’s isolation cell ripped open with large, spiky, yellow letters dripping over the walls: **_Tricked ya!_**

“How did they get in?” David asked. He raised his eyes from the photographs, frowning at Wolfe when he got not response. He repeated the question, tone level.

“We do not know,” Wolfe said through gritted teeth. “We have video footage of a car leaving the service yard, however there was a glitch in our surveillance-”

“You mean the CCTV you were just praising?” David asked boredly, pretending not to notice one of his officers snort with laughter behind him as Wolfe fumed.

“Captain Singh, I have reason to believe you aren’t taking this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am,” David said. “It’s just that this isn’t your first surveillance glitch, is it?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“What happened to Walker’s face?” David asked calmly, flicking round a close up still of Axel and his rescuer wielding the Trickster’s T-bombs as he glared at Wolfe. “The kid’s face is bruised. ” 

“It must’ve been the debris from his cell being broken open.” 

“That occurred mere minutes before your surveillance caught this,” David said. “Not nearly enough time for that level of bruising to develop.”

“Allen punched him when he escaped - you were there, you saw it - it must’ve been from that,” Wolfe said dismissively.

“Allen clocked Axel Walker in the jaw, and miraculously didn’t break his hand doing it,” David said sternly, eyes narrowing. “We had a nurse look over Axel when he was brought in. He has fractured ribs and a black eye, not to mention extensive bruising to his legs and arms. And funnily enough,” David growled, “no damage to his jaw. These injuries happened within the space of a week, after he was apprehended following his initial escape. How did that happen, Warden?” 

Nobody breathed as David tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Warden. _How did that happen?”_

 

The precinct had gone quiet, but Axel didn’t really care. He was handcuffed to a table in a room with a mirror he knew worked only one way, but he didn’t really care. He had been given a plate of bacon bagels - now that he did care about, as he shovelled the food into his mouth without delay. 

“You will give yourself indigestion if you keep that up.” 

Axel’s head snapped up, a chunk of bacon dangling from his mouth, as Captain Singh shut the door behind him. The police captain gave Axel a look of disdain as the Trickster said something unintelligible.

“I beg your pardon?” 

Axel swallowed his mouthful of food. “I said ‘is this you playing good cop?’” He held up the half eaten bagel in his hands, nodding at it. 

“Is ‘decent’ the same as ‘good’?” David asked. Axel chewed the thought with his bacon.

“I’ll take it after the last couple of weeks I’ve had,” Axel said after swallowing. 

“Mm, yes, about that,” David said, dropping his file and Wolfe’s photographs on his side of the table, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it around the back of his chair, “it might interest you to know that I just had the pleasure of ordering Gregory Wolfe out of my precinct.” 

Axel’s eyes went wide with glee, before narrowing. “Why’re you being so chummy?” 

“Am I?” David asked, flicking open the file. “I can be less chummy if you want.” 

“Nah, nah,” Axel said quickly. “It’s just weird. I’m still expecting ‘bad cop’ to show up.” 

“Mr Walker, I have had a stressful day - having you here is the highlight of it,” David smiled wryly. 

“Bit harsh.” 

David snorted softly. “No offense meant, I assure you. Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you know what I’m about to ask you.” 

“I’m not telling you how I broke out,” Axel said smugly through a mouthful of food. 

“Axel, we know an unknown assailant broke you out of Iron Heights at approximately one thirty this afternoon. What I don’t think you know is that that same unknown assailant left you unconscious on a bench outside the precinct not an hour after breaking you out.” 

Axel stopped mid chew. “Okay, so he’s a dude, taller than me, but not, like, tall, wearing all black bike leathers, had some kind of method of distorting his voice in his helmet. And apparently he’s an a**,” Axel said bitterly, ripping off another chunk of bagel in his teeth. 

“So it wasn’t another Rogue?” 

“No! Do you think they’d break me out of prison just to stick me back in prison?” Axel asked indignantly. “Plus they’d flaunt it if they broke out of Iron Heights. Not many people have. They’d make sure you knew it was them.” Axel’s chewing slowed to a halt, eyes flicking up to David’s face before darting away again. “...Are you gonna send me back there?” 

“No.” Axel perked up at David’s swift, curt response. He watched as David took a slow breath. “No,” he said, more slowly, “no, we will not be sending you back to Iron Heights.” 

“You weren’t kidding about not liking Wolfe, huh?” Axel asked hopefully.

“I would never joke about such a thing,” David mused, ignoring the Trickster’s snigger in favour of tapping the photograph of Axel’s graffitied cell. “You used to run with a bunch of kids your age who used your gimmick - any chance it could have been one of them?”

“Nah, they’d wanna leave me in there,” Axel said, awkwardly ducking his head down so he could scratch his nose. “We didn’t end on such good terms.”

“Mhmm. I mentioned before that we found you unconscious outside the precinct- What’s the last thing you remember after escaping Iron Heights?” 

“Uhhhh….garbage chute, guy can’t climb, uhh..oh! He put the radio on.” 

“The radio?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember now,” Axel said, sitting up in his chair. “He put the radio on ‘cause-” He stopped suddenly. He eyed David curiously as the police captain waited intently for him to speak. 

_“Oh, so you can hear me.”_

_“Loud and clear.”_

“Huh…” Axel sniffed, rolling his shoulder and kicking back in his chair. “I dunno, I must’ve fallen asleep? Potential car chase and I fell asleep, how lame is that? I mean, I didn’t sleep right for, like, two weeks, but hey.” Axel eyed David curiously, the hint of a smile on his face. 

When David finished the interview, he was halfway out the door when Axel called after him. 

“You can tell him ‘thank you’ now.”

David glanced at the Trickster. “I’m sorry, who?” he asked calmly. Axel shrugged, rocking back in his chair as far as the cuffs would let him.

“I’unno. Yourself?” 

“Why would I do that?” David said smoothly. Axel shrugged again with a grin. 

“For being a good cop? Or, maybe a bad cop, I dunno. What would you count it as?” 

David raised his eyebrows, and pulled the door shut behind him, but not before Axel called after him once more.

“And tell him I still want that car!”

* * *

David pulled a mug out of his kitchen cupboard as the kettle steamed behind him. He paused, assessing the weight of it in his hand before peering inside.

“Madam,” he chided, “do you mind.” He sighed, dipping his fingers into the mug and scooping out the chittering rat. “Yes, yes, very funny,” he agreed, setting her down gently on the kitchen counter and giving her back a soft scratch. “As long as you didn’t get into the biscuits I’ll let you off.” He pulled a second mug out of the cupboard, followed by the tin of tea bags. He plucked out two sachets - one of green tea, the other of Assam - and dropped one into each mug. 

“We arrested the Trickster today,” he said casually as he poured boiling water into each mug. “He was broken out of Iron Heights by an unknown assailant. It wasn’t much of a getaway, though - we found the kid asleep on a bench outside the precinct, of all places. We were tipped off that he was there, too.” 

_“Really?”_ a bemused voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. _“How very strange.”_

“Mmmhmm,” David hummed. “It is almost like,” he said, prodding the tea bag in the second mug with his spoon, “someone wanted us to have him, like they broke him out of Iron Heights just to give him to the CCPD.” 

_“Now that is odd.”_

“Isn’t it just?” David agreed, squeezing out the first teabag and dropping it into the bin. 

_“What’s going to happen to Axel now?”_

“He will be most likely transferred to a juvenile detention centre, or given extensive community service. Or both.”

_“The Rogues will just break him out of juvie, you know that, right?”_

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, but what else do we do with him? Put him on the naughty step?” 

_“I’m fairly certain I’ve been told that Len did, once or twice.”_

David snorted, squeezing out the second teabag and dropping it into the bin. “So that was my day,” David hummed, picking up both mugs and turning to smile at the man in black bike leathers stood leaning against the doorframe. “How was yours?” 

There was a muffled chuckle from beneath the bike helmet as gloved hands reached up to pull it off, and a cascade of long red hair poured out. 

“Oh, you know,” Hartley said as he set the helmet aside and gratefully accepted the mug of black tea from David, giving him a cheeky smile over the rim of the mug. “Uneventful.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works for a couple of months now, I'm pretty sure, so I hope you all enjoy it! Please tell me what you think! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Credit to TheKelpie on tumblr for the _glorious_ headcanon about Axel yelling 'YEET' while throwing a T-Bomb :D _https://thekelpie.tumblr.com/post/169265823216/axel-yelling-yeet-whilst-throwing-a-t-bomb_
> 
> And there is also a fanart to go with it! _https://thekelpie.tumblr.com/post/169312368876/skeeble-inspired-by-thekelpies-post-amaze_


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